Can I tell you my birth story? Oh, I already did? Are you sick of hearing it? Can I tell it again?
I love telling my birth story with Felix. As a midwife, I enjoy birth stories in general and know how important they are to women. Shortly after graduating midwifery school, I took a weekend retreat to a place called Omega. I had just been broken up with and my life was in transition from student to real world. I needed a weekend to regroup. I signed up for a Kabalistic Healing workshop at the retreat center, quickly found it silly and ditched the workshop for yoga and tai chi sessions and general R&R. I was nervous for the meals because they were communal and I knew no one, but I found that conversation flowed easily once people learned I was a midwife. Everyone had a birth story- they told me the stories of the birth of their children, of their sister of their nieces and nephews, of their friends and neighbors. I was a hit in telling some of the birth stories of my patients (no identifying info revealed, of course)
So you can imagine my excitement and sense of fulfillment when I finally had one of my own to share. But I both did and didn’t have one to share. I love my birth story with Mabel- how I was in denial about labor, how I held her in as long as I could, how I pushed her out in just three pushes. But it’s not one I get to share often, because telling the story involves sharing that I got an epidural- something I would have otherwise hoped to avoid, but when I was in so much labor pain without the reward or incentive of a take home baby, I caved easily. I would love to share how I got the epidural when I was in transition but didn’t know it, that once I lay down after placement, I was fully dilated, that I didn’t feel a darn thing until her head was practically peeking out. But these are all details that I only want to share in the right context- that I was giving birth to a baby that would likely die. I want to be able to share my birth story with Mabel easily, but since her birth is wrapped up in her death, there isn’t a happy ending. All that pain for what? I feel like if I were to tell that story I would garner sympathy- and that’s not what I want. I simply want to be part of the club, the mother’s club, where we share our birth stories, laughing, bragging and bemoaning every detail. People don’t laugh or ask details when your baby dies.
Felix let me into that club. I was in labor for 15 min. I delivered him myself. At home. Over the toilet. Isn’t amazing?
So you may get sick of hearing me tell my birth story with Felix, because it’s two birth stories. He came fast- very fast- because he was my second. His sister paved the way so he could literally fly out. I get to tell it over and over because I don’t get to tell Mabel’s story as much.